"Afraid I haven't met that one. It was a boy; red hair, scrawny, looks like he could use a good nap or twenty."

She keeps pace, eyes sharp as they dart from one sign to the next. The Peregrine really is sterile, lacking the settled nature of the Feather. Even knowing it has a small crew doesn't prepare for the reality of it.

"He didn't strike me as the type to decorate with emojis." Intoned the same way, lightly mocking.